The Doted Line
by LadyLove5000
Summary: WINCEST! Sam is the high class son of Duke and Dean's a lowly soldier. Them together? What could be sexier! Rated M for course language and mature content.
1. Prologue

Prologue

One of the only things that my dear parents ever taught me about sexuality is that it is subjective. There are no such thing as sexual orientations or love, people fuck because fucking is fun. Because it feels good. And there isnt any harm in that, rite?

So when my first ever kiss was with a guy, I wasnt really worried. I mean, he was really hot in all the conventional terms. Gorgeous eyes, golden and toned body, excellently proportioned prick. The usual suspects.

I love girls, too. I love their soft skin, their curves, and there smell. That sweet smell. I dont care if its some shit from a bottle its fucking fantastic. But girls are so much work. You have to talk to them before theyll let you screw them, which can take like..several days. And you have to be clever. And then after you screw them they always want to get married. Lets just say, thats one conversation over the morning toast I can really do without.

And its not even fair because the girls who are easy, the ones who with an easy smile and wink you can get into your bed, are consceptually beneath my class. My parents even frown upon, which when you think about it doesnt make any sense. I mean, they leave without a fuss. It's so tidy. And it would've have avoided a whole lot of trouble. I hate how people contradict themselves so much, sometimes.

So you can sympathize that half the time I'd rather be fucked than do the fucking. It's easier and sometimes twice as pleasureable. And the men, so many men. I dont really remember their names or faces, but....

Well...this is before it all changed. You see, silly fuck that I am, I had to go in a screw everything up. The first rule about fucking in my parents house is you never fall in love. Its like a law. Because while fucking is okay, feeling anything beyond lust for anyone outside of your family (and feeling lust for your family) just isnt allowed. Oh and your wife, its recommeneded that you fall in love with your wife, but not a rule. Too many people would break it.

But there I had to go and feel something besides lust, something maybe an extreame optimist might even call compassion or even true appreciation (things that arent really allowed in the family, either) or, if you turn in the opposite direction and close your eyes, maybe even true love for another person.

Another man. And he didnt just have a penis but he had to go and be born a commoner, a working class stiff with no formal education and no hope of becoming anything beyond a grunt work horse or a soldier.

People who have gorgeous green eyes and freckles and perfect bodies and miles of muscle just shouldnt be allowed to be working class stiffs. In fact they shouldnt be allowed at all, because people like that really fuck up the lives of people like me. They make people break the rules. And there are rules for a reason! Because shit happens when you break the rules, I've come to learn. It hurts your insides.

But I guess I'm getting ahead of myself. You see this is sopposed to be a story. It's a pretty good one too, with intrigue and passion and hot sex and lust and jealosy and star crossed lovers through and through. Hell, Shakespear couldnt have thought this shit up.

But I warn you that the ending will break your heart. And know you're not alone because it broke mine too. Thirty three thousand shattered pieces of heart. Enough to make me almost end it all, and thats why I have all this time on my hands to write this down. I hauled up in this building of windows and white until the doctor deems me fit for society. I dont know who he's trying to protect though, me or society.

So here I go. Chapter one. The exposision.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I wake up to the sound of gentle snoring. It's how I know i'm in my own bed, and not some man's because even if I do fall asleep in some other mans bed they always disappear because they have somewhere very important to be early the next day. Men are very busy, I've come to learn.

So, some fair maiden lays beside me. Decided to rest up in my quarters for the night. Probably expects a good morning kiss and toast. And a proposal. Oh bugger, it's enough to send me back beneath the covers. But I have plans today, I remember. Regan (my best if slightly distrubed best friend) invited me to go "fishing". Which is code for girl hunting. You see, my friend Regan is a virgin. It's kind of embarrasing, actually. But in order to protect his self esteem, he's also under the impression that I am similarly handi-capped. So everyday he comes up with a new scheme to get us laid.

I dont really understand it. He's perfectly adorable. I'd do him if I didnt know that he used to eat paste and mud when we were kids. I guess he lacks confidence though, or he's not mature enough, yet. So he's always coming up with these schemes. Like fishing. Now he's got it in his head that fishing makes men look powerful and very fuckable and thus a sure-fire way to get laid. It's pretty hillarious actually, and probably more than half the reason I always end up tagging along.

So with this excuse in my mind, I very carefully slide out of bed, and pull my clothes on. I've just finished (attractively) shagging up my hair when the girl sits straight up and looks around with this horribly innocent and confused look on her face. She takes one look at me, her clothes, that happen to be not on her body but strewn randomly about the room, and practically vomits slash screams.

"Oh fuck it all I cant believe I did it! I drink one lousy smirnoff, take two hits off the pipe and here I am in Samuel Wickham's bed, the biggest asshat and deviant in the kingdom!" she moans, smacking her hand to her forehead.

"Uhhh...good morning" I reply. I cant really think of anything else to say, I mean thats a pretty involved introduction. I soppose I should be insulted but i'm in too good a mood. She definitly won't be asking for half my worldly possessions and a permanent place in my family, which is gift enough.

"Well...I have some things to be getting on with. You know, family stuff, breakfast. So if you wouldnt mind i'm going to head out..." I trail off, heading out the door.

The last thing I hear before I close it is her mumbling something about rude asshats. Like I said, all and all not a bad way to greet the day.

I soppose one thing I should establish is the fact that I happen to be royalty. The son of a duke, really, so not some jerk off Prince in a palace or anything. But Duke's still get pretty sweet digs, so I live in this hugish mansion in the really nice part of town, you see. And because of our familys station, we're entitled to some fifty or so servants thats are always squireling about and I pass by at least half of them on the way to the dining hall.

After walking about a mile, I finally arrive, just in time to slide into a seat and grab some capers, toast and tea. So I'm munching away all content and happy like when my Father, the Grand Duke Samuel Wickham the Second, has to check around the newspaper and see that I happen to be there. As in not somewhere else. Somewhere he cannot hassle me about my hair, my clothes or my lack of direction in life. Damn.

"Oh hello, Son. Fancy seeing you here at home. Did term in early for some strange reason? Did they invent a new holiday?" he begins, all sarcastic and snarky. You see, he loves doing this every day since I've dropped out of school for a few terms. It's the highlight of his day. Which is pretty sad considering I got kicked out like two months ago. But who am I to judge?

"Ah ha, as clever and amusing as ever, sir" I reply back, leaning back in my chair and brushing the crumbs from my lap. I then notice the unfamilar person sitting to the left of my snarky, sarcastic father. He has a soldiers uniform on and he seems very uncomfortable at the table, for he's sitting all stock still and frozen like. There is an untouched egg on his plate and a full cup of coffee sitting before him, and he's concentrating very hard at not looking at anyone in the eye, but at the same time not being really obvious about it.

That's soliders for you. There perfectly comfortable running around on horseback and killing things with swords and getting shot at, but one meal sitting besides some two-bit politician (who is easily bowled over by my mother and a few choice women on the cooking staff) and they go all intimidated. Doesn't really make any sense, except I have a theory they get all goosed out by the gold and jewlery and fine paintings and grandeous furniture. Shiny things, ya know?

Father must have noticed where I'd been looking for her turns to the soldier guys and introduces him, "This is Seargent Dean Winchester, a dedicated and exceptional young man in our Royal army."

The Seargent looks up, blushing slightly which off sets a set of rather adorable freckles. In fact, now that he's looking up I notice he happens to be like...really hot. Like I said, freckles, gorgeous green eyes, and fine but firm features. Like, he's kind of even pretty but in a I-can-kick-your-ass-so-hard-it'd -be-sad kind of way. I can't see what his bod looks like cause he's sitting down and the uniform isnt eactly closefitting but I was born with a pretty good imagination.

Anyway, so he's sitting there looking all embarrased and my Dad's sitting there looking all proud of myself like I'm gonna jump up and say, "You know what, pop's? You're absolutely right! This fine specimen of a creature has turned me straight and I cant wait to run back to school, finish my goddamned education and become a fine fuck up, just like you!" Like I said, he can be a real smug bastard when he wants to be. And people like me like to fuck with smug bastards, usually.

I jump up out of my chair, standing at attention and then I vigorously salute them both about a zillion times. I notice with satisfaction that I earn an amused half smile from the hot soldier and a frown from the father. I turn to leave when my snarky sarcastic two bit poltician fuck up of father barks at me

"Samuel Thomas Wickham the Third, you stop right there!"

Aww fuck me. As I slowly turn around to face him, I notice he's looking to the Portrait of his father, Snarky sarcastic two-bit politician the first. Which means he's really rearing it up for a good and long lecture, which will mean I'll have to stand there like an idiot while he says meaningless phrases at me like "it's about the attitude you have on life, son!" and "You have to jump on the ball, now, or you never will"(because he's inspirational and clever like that). And in front of the hot Sergant! Oh God why don't you just shove a pineapple up my ass, it'd be less painful.

Just then I notice that my dearly beloved sister Anastasia happens to be at the table. She has that ability to sit down and read at the table and haul into herself and make like shes not even there. I swear to god it's creepy but in a kind of awesome sort of way.

"Daddy..." she begins, all saccharine and goodly, two things my father is the most succeptable, sadly enough, "You forgot to take your heart medication, again." This sends him silent, and as he stares guitily at his plate, totally distracted from any preemtive lecturing. Did I mention how much I love my dearest sister Anastasia? She's like three years older than me, and thus much more adjusted to the on-going battle against our parents. She has some real finese, that girl.

While my father fumbles around for his cod and fish liver oil, or whatever the hell it is he takes, my sister follows me out of the room. Once past the french doors, we are free and she links her arm with mine as we follow the cooridor out to the main foyer. Yes, because Dukes need more than one foyer and therefore need termonology like "the main foyer". It's enough to make you sick sometimes, but home sweet home, right?

"I noticed a certain lady friend leaving out a certain servant's entrace this morning, dear brother" she says, smiling, "a certain lady friend who happens to be the younger sister of a dear friend of mine. Apperantly I'm sopposed to tell you off or some such shite but clearly it is too nice a day outside."

And it is indeed, once we are out onto the main gardens the sun is just as the right angle in the sky to be nice and warm, yet the grounds still look all crips and fresh and green.

"You know how it is....crazy partys and lots of alcohol equals great fun" I reply, carefully evaluating her face. She says she finds my lifestyle amusing but sometimes I think she's worried about me. I have no idea why, but that's sister's for you.

"So, what are the plans today?" She asks brighly.

"Regan and his on-going quest to turn in his V-Card continues, this time we are to--"

"Oh crunchgumbies! No no, have you forgotten? It's my birthday today and you promised me that you would peruse the city with me, remember you fiend?!" she interupts, pulling her eyebrows together in a look of mock disgust.

"No...your birthday is next month, what are you even talking about?" I reply, questiioningly.

"Oh right, jesus any other man on this planet and that would have totally worked on. You really must be gay." she laughs, "Well...i need you today, kay Sam? So give Regan a rain check for me and I will personally ensure that he will turn in his virginity, and we can hang out together, kay?"

"Ummm..sure. But what happened?" I say, my voice tinged with concern.

"Nothing! Jeeze does something have to happen for us to hang out?"

"I guess not..." I'm still filled with doubt, though.

"Okay fabulas. I'm kidnapping you and were going to spend the day shopping and eating and drinking and generally making a disgrace of the family," she reassures, smiling. She then sets off at a purposeful pace across the garden, to the main Barn where all the really expensive cars and motorcycles are kept. Like I said, Duke's got paid.

….....................................................................

So it's like sixteen billion hours later, and were sitting down at the bar of some shitty little place, where the "beers are cold and the women are hot" as the sign proclaims all though to be honest it seems like the their refrigerator hasnt worked since 1978 and the women are luke warm at best. It's dark and crowded, with people hanging all over eachother and the music is vaguely disorientating. Which makes sense I guess, people go to places like these to BECOME disorientated. At least in a place like this, I mean the only way to voluntarily exist in this place is to be disorientated. Thats the point..

I'm not really sure why were here, actually. Ana's had this weird tick all day, like she keeps on expecting something to happen thats important. I would have been perfectly fine heading back home and chatting up some new aquantances and potentially new prospects but no we just HAD to stop and take a look inside and isn't is just too adorable, all tiny and cosy inside? My sister never says words like "adorable" and "cosy". She has a vague disgust for things that are "adorable" and cosy". So I'm not really sure where this is going. But like I said, whatever.

So we sit there for like ten minutes, akwardly sipping our high class drinks, only the best for Dukes right, and after the third girl's hand happens to "accidentally" grope my ass and the guy whose like leering at me like a fucking child molester in the corner, I've decidely had enough. I pull the carton of ciggarettes from my pocket as way as an excuse to step outside and maybe hale a cab, because my sisters gripping the keys like she's about to knife anyone who'll come near her, but only in the most nonthreatening and casual way of course, when the door opens and a blast of cold air shoots in.

And to my surprise and shock in walks Mr. Seargent Dean Winchester, who happens to be a exceptional and dedicated young man in the royal Army and since when do exceptional and dedicated young men have to do with being in such shady establishments as this? I am curious to say the least and it's enough to send me back to my bar stool, where I swivel back to facing the bar and cock my head in such a way that it looks like I'm insanely drunk and also allows for a perfect view of Seargent from the bar mirror. I've noticed with satisfaction that the child molester in the corner has now turned his attention to the Seargent, which is nice because it was getting kinda cold, what with drafty doors and sweating all over myself, and it would be nice to get some clothes back before he striped them all off with his eyes, thanks.

I turn back to the seargent and watch as he proceeds across the room, when I notice he has a youngish girl in tow. She's gripping tightly to his hand so I guess our young Seargent has a girlfriend. Which makes me sad in a much more profound way then it should, so I shake these thoughts away. As he manuvers around the room he finally steps out of view out of the room. I'm kind of depressed now, because even tight ass Seargent Dean Winchester has a girlfriend and I'm feeling kind of lonely because I've never dated anone for more than a few days at a time. Maybe if I actually did settle down for like a few months, like everyone keeps on telling me, I'd earn some respect and dignity. Maybe I should call up one of those girls I've ruthelessly screwed and then pretended no longer existed and do a sort of trial run, the least I can do is introduce her to the 'rents. Maybe hit up a few places. Get a cute little house and a white picket fence and the 2.5 children and the tire swing and the grocery store....

Ana interupts my thoughts by jerking my arm. I turn towards her and she's sitting there with the Seargent sitting beside her and his lady standing there akwardly beside them. Where the fuck did they come from?

"Sam, this is Dean and his little sister...."

"Harmony" the girl supplys, her face brightening.

"Harmony" my sister repeats. "So Dean and Harmony are in town for a few days and I figured as was my place as the Grand Dukes daughter, that we'd offer to show them around to the best digs."

"This "cozy" "adorable" shithole is considered one of the best digs?" I reply incredulously. Alright, to each his own.

So forty high balls later, we sit around for what seems like another sixteen million hours but I dont really mind. Harmony is pretty cute, in that insipid clueless sort of way, and Dean isnt half bad either and I'm just settling into what could be a descent drunken stupor when Ana whispers into my ear,

"Bet you I can get Dean into my bed faster than you can" her face is all pretty with the blush of liquor and her eyes shine in the the lights. I dont really deny her comment, Dean definitly seems to be the straight lover of women sort of guy, but it's late enough and I'm drunk enough to take her on.

For some weird reason, we decided that the bar was giving off the wrong vibes and we elect to head down the street to some floozy dance club. The place is all lit up and pretty, throbbing with rapidly beating music and strobe lights and we all pair up to jump onto the dance floor. I'm dancing with Harmony and twirling her around like a freaken human top and she's so pretty looking, all bright cheeked and shiny eyed and I get the sudden urge to do something crazy, like take her in my arms or get down on one knee. The world is spinning so fast and for some reason Harmony seems to be the only one who matters.

But then time shifts and Ana cuts in, probably senseing some crazy look in my eyes, and they start jiving away, laughing and gigling. I stand there for a second, smiling benevolently, like I'm blessing them. Blessing their jiving like the goddamned pope, when I feel Dean slide his hand onto my wrist. I turn to him, and there he is all hot and adorable freckles and I feel the urge to just lick at every single one, just reach up and start licking at his nose because they look so delicious, like they should be nutmet or milk chocolate flavored.

I know were dancing now, he's settled one arm around my waiste and another clasps my hand lightly. His palms arent even sweaty on my sweat slick skin.

"I made a bet with my sister!" I tell him, shouting into his ear above the loud noises of the dance hall.

"What about?" he replys.

"Seducing you! I'm sopposed to make you fall in love with me over her you, and then I've won, you see!"

"Oh I see. So would kissing you right now mean you won the bet?"

I make like I'm really contemplating hard for a second, "Something like that" I smile.

His lips are firm and soft on mine, and he nips at my bottom lip, requesting entrance. Normally I dont kiss guys but his lips and his strong arms feels so good, enveloping me in a hot and sexy cucoon. I sense people staring, but I dont really care. Ana's shaking her head, but in a good natured "good job, sport!" sort of way and Harmony is gigling ridiculasly behind her upturned palm, like she's so happy that were here and that she's here, just for a second in the universe. I am totally on her same wavelength

He's tugging at my arm towards the exit for some post-dance-off fucking probably, and I feel like the luckiest boy in the world. The last thing I remember is Ana and Harmony waving goodbye at us as they spin across the dance floor.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I think the worst part about waking up in the morning is that no matter how many times you do it, five minutes later you have to do it again. Drag your ass out of bed after staying out way too late at night and taking part in all sorts of way too many unhealthy activities. It's pretty fucking annoying.

My breath tastes stagnant and nasty as I sit up in bed, rubbing my aching head and dreaming about a hot shower. It's then I notice someone sitting in my desk chair. For a second I think it's my mom, she used to watch me sleep early in the morning when I was little, and draw me sometimes. I know that sounds creepy but it was kind of nice. That was before she disappeared...but I dont want to think about that right now.

But no, it's not my long lost mother or anyone of any relation to me. It's that soldier guy...ummm...Dean or whatever his name is. It takes a few seconds but then last night finally clicks into place. But now I'm confused because I am definitly still wearing clothes.

"We didn't have sex last night, if that's what you were wondering" he states randomly, grabbing my attention.

"We didn't? How come?" I say, stifling a yawn. I'm still pretty groggy.

"Because you freaken fell asleep right when we stumbled into the door. It would have been cute if this had actually been my place and you were like...my little sister. Instead I'm stuck sitting here all night not sure what the fuck to do with a massive boner." he replys, although he chuckles so I guess he wasn't really that mad.

"Oh....sorry about that?"

"It's alright....light weight" he snickers. This really gets my attention. No one has ever called me a light weight. Ever. I once downed an entire bottle of vodca and still made it through AP French and Logistics (too really fucking boring classes) and didn't even feel the slightest bit woozy. So needless to say I was offended.

"What the fuck?! I am NOT a light weight! I was just feeling a bit....tired is all! Jesus!" I reply angirly.

"Fine fine" he says, holding up his hands in a mock gesture of surrender. But then he sort of whispers under his breath, "whatever you say, light weight"

I stand up really fast, ready to I dont know...crack a chair over his head or something! when I feel all the blood rush to my head really fast and my vision goes all black and I fall back onto the bed.

"fuuu-damnit" I moan, holding my pounding head between my hands. I can feel the worst hangover of my life coming on.

"Jesus, dont hurt yourself," he says.

"Look asshole dont you have like...somewhere to BE or something?! Like a place that is_ not _here where you live and work and whatever the hell else...??"

"No actually" he laughs, "Your Dad has invited me to stay here, remember? Because I'm such a dedicated and exceptional young man? Anyway, I'm going to go get some eats and then go hit on your sister or something. She is pretty hot by the way. So see ya around" he ducks around the door, shutting it with a firm click, just as I throw a particularly large volume of Shakespeare's Complete Works Volume Two after him. It makes a loud thudding noise and it lands on the floor like fifteen feet away from the door.

Oh hell, this is going to be a shitty day.

After a nice long hot shower and some fresh clean clothes and lots and lots of toothpaste I finally feel comfortable enough to face the world. Therefore, I sneek out of the house to meet up with Regan, because maybe he got lucky last night or something. Yeah and maybe the Lucky Charms Leprachaun just filled the streets with thousands of mini marshmellows. Wait scratch that, the marshmellows are probably more likely.

So I'm sopposed to meet up with him on the lake. As I shoot past on my flashy yellow motorcycle (because Duke's son status equals I get cool stuff) I spy him easily on the horizon of green and blue. This is probably because he's the only one wearing a flipping bright orange safety vest. Now, personally, if I had come to the point of desperation in which I felt the need to fish in order to get some I would'nt mind maybe taking a doozy in the lake, but not Regan. He's probably all "Well, just cause I want to get laid doesnt mean I have to DROWN!" or some such shite. What can I say, I'm more of a risk taker.

I walk up slowly behind him, stalking him like a giant, dumb, orange safety vested idiot when I notice he happens to be talking to someone else. I look up, thinking for a seocnd that it might actually be someone of the female gender when lo and behond there sits asshole Dean Winchester, looking really hot in only swimming trunks and nothing else and he must have like a ten pack and holy crap he is so fucking gorgeous it's not even fair but this is all irrelevant because he's still an asshole! And he's sitting there talking to Regan.

"What the hell?" I say, startling them both.

"Dude this guy is like the SHIIIZ! He's knows all about chicks and how to get them! He should write a book!" Regan begins excitedly. He's jumping up and down like a retarded puppy dog and I litterally almost just threw up in my mouth.

"Hey man, I've just been around the block a few times" Dean replys, shaking off Regan's appraisal but he still has the nerve to blush a little and did I mention how cute he looks with freckles?? and DAMNIT IM DOING IT AGAIN!! GRR!! Self, remember gorgeous man with freckles **equals** asshole!

"No really he's a flipping genius! Did you know that when girls--"

"Dude he's not even into girls! He made out with me last night! We almost had sex last night! He doesnt even know anything about girls!"

"Irrelevant! He's still a flipping genius!"

I really have to admire Regan's pure bluntness at this point. I essentially just admitted that I might not be as straight as a ruler, or that I might actually_ have_ a sex life, two pretty ground breaking admissions right there but he just shakes it off, turning back to his new God, the Seargent. You know that throwing-up-in-my-mouth little thing that I mentioned earlier? I just almost did it again. What the hell is HAPPENING to the world!

I can't even SEE straight I'm so mad! This Dean guy is totally taking over my life every where he goes! And he's doing it better! That's just fucked up. While I stand there, balling my fists and doing all I can not to stamp on the ground like a six year old girl Regan asks,

"Hey so according to Dean chicks really dig sweet rides, like sports cars and the such. Do you mind if I borrow your bike for a few hours?"

I'm so pissed off that I dont really even hear his voice and I just wave his out of my sight.

As Regan jogs up the hill, squealing with excitement as he straddles the bike and turning the key (which I,like the the rich and retarded white boy that I am, left in the ignition) starting her up. I finally notice what Regan's doing when I look up to see him zooming off into the distance with my prized baby, probably to drive her into a tree five seconds from now. Double fuck!

"What the hell do you know about girls?!" I lash out at Dean, whose been watching me this whole time laughing quietly to himself.

"Dude, I'm kind of like really hot. And I'm a soldier, which chicks dig. And I have an awesome car, which my more vulgar friends like to call the Pussy Mobile. You wear tightish pants and drive around on a giant yellow pansy bike. Of the two of us, I think I know a lot more about girls."

"My bike is not pansy! Yellow can be a manly color, too! It's gender neutral! Dont you ever notice that parents color their baby's walls yellow when their not sure whether their going to have a boy or girl?! It's cause it's yellow and it's an awesome color!"

"Says the "man" who passes out after like two drinks..."

"This coming from the "man" who grabs the ass of slash makes out with the man who passes out after like two drinks!"

"I was drunk. You kind of look like a chick."

"Yeah! Well--! Ummm...whatever!" I reply, somewhat lamely. As if! He was SO into me.

"You know I was having like a REALLY good week before you decided to drop by! I'm going to close my eyes, count to ten, and then go call some CHICKS and hang out with them. You shall have nothing to do with any of these plans, in fact if the words seargent, Dean, or Winchester are mentioned I will personally kill myself! Compramisso?" And with that I march away, pulling out my cell to call a cab. The last thing I see is some little old lady walking her ancient fat bull dog and obviously checking Dean out.

I need a drink really bad right now.

So I'm sitting in the bar that i'd visited last night. I figure that this is the place that I met Dean, and therefore where my life started to become pretty shitty, so if I come back and start again my life will thus become un-shitified. Or something like that.

I just called my sister and she offered to stop by with a couple of her friends. Because my masculinity is feeling a little wounded right now, I figure that some flirting and maybe some screwing will probably do me some good. And like I said, lots and lots of alcohol.

She brings about two, and they are all wearing brightly colored yellow sundresses which they got at some "fabulas little boutique" down the street. So at this point I'm seriously considering turning in my bike for something more masculine. Maybe a nice black or red.

"So how's your day been, darling?" Ana asks teasingly, tucking her hair behind her ear and settling into some chips and salsa.

"Shitty, but now you're here" I smile, checking out the girls she brought. A brunette and a red head, both slightly plump but in that sexy Marilyn Monroe sort of way. My day is looking up, shall we say?

I'm just settling into my gin and tonic when it happens. They. Bring. Up. The. Seargent.

"Omg have you seen him! The new soldier whose been hanging around?! Isnt he so DREAMY?!" formerly sexily plump brunette, who is now just fat and annoying, gushes. And I thought the only people who say things like "DREAMY" are the people who make fun of people like fat and annoying brunette chick.

I figure I can still salvage the red head at least, I mean this drink is like six dollars. I start putting the moves on her, you know all casual but interested like, and right when it looks like I might just get a happy ending she says,

"Hey not that I'm not all flattered and everything, but I thought you were gay? And besides i've known you for about thirty seconds dude, stop trying to lay the eyes on me."

I am utterly mortified. My traterous sister all of a sudden starts chocking on her drink and ducks under the table to "cough" her head off but I know she's just laughing her ass off. There is no hope left. I'm seriously going to skip town, pawn off all my worldly possessions and become a street performer in Santa Monica.

I have no reply for the red head. I just stand up, grabbing my coat from my chair and head out of the room. As I pass, my sister shakes her head while the red head stares questioningly at my sister, as if to say "What'd I do?" The brunette waves at me as I step out the door.

It took me about thirty minutes but I locate where Dean Winchester, the hated one, got off to. He's sitting in our salon, smoking cigarettes and parusing a book, which upon closer examination turns out to be the Shakerspeare copy that I threw at him this morning. Suave bastard. I stare at him for a few seconds from the doorway, half wanting to kill him and half wanting to climb into his lap and kiss him when I notice five or six of our maids across the room crowding in the doorway and dreamily staring at him, probably contemplating the same thing. Well fuck that.

"I challenge you, you bastard!" I announce dramatically, stepping into the room and brandishing the first thing I could get my hands on, which turns out to be a letter opener.

"Dude, your gonna loose an eye with that thing" he replys, not even looking up, "Now run along and leave the dangerous devices to the real men."

Stepping closer, I kick the book out of his hands and hold the depressingly dull blade to his throat.

"I challenge you to the most badass game of ping pong of your entire existance. To the death." Okay it sounded much more menacing in my head.

"What, or you'll letter open me to the death?"

"Alright fine....looks like I might not be the only light weight in the room...."

"Hey, hey lets not get ahead of ourselves. Alright fine, I'll do your stupid challenge. Oh, and by the way, real men refer to it as TABLE TENNIS"

Oh it's on.

We're standing in the game room, on opposite sides of the bright red and green ping pong table trying to look as menacing as possible with little paddles in our hands.

"What are the terms of this death match anyway?"

"Other than death?"

"Yeah, other than death"

"If I win, you have to leave town and never return...."

"And if I win....you have to be my slave for a week!"

"God, you really must be gay" I say, hitting the ball across the table and unsucessfully catching him off guard. Stupid army skills.

We parlay across the board, playing what must be the most intense game of table tennis ever played. It's all fair in love in war, as several times I try to hit low shots, trying to catch him off guard.

Whack! It flys across the table, i'm just about to serve the most manliest serve ever when Ana walks into the room,

"Sam, darling, have you seen the yellow Kawazaki? I wanted to go out tonight..."

I turn to her just at the wrong moment. The ball spins inmid air, I turn back and I deserpately ark my paddle towards it. I miss by centimeters. The. Ball. Falls. It makes a horribly loud clattering noise as it hits the tiled floor. My paddle drops to the floor as I sway with shock. I just lost a game of ping pong. I don't loose games of ping pong.

"About the bike?" my sister asks, completely unaware of the fact that my world is crashing all around me.

"Your ass is mine, bitch!" Dean shouts triumphantly.

Bugger.

A/N: OMG! FLIGHT OF THE CONCHORDS ARE APPEARING IN LA!!! AND I HAVE PRESALE TICKETS!! THIS IS THE GREATEST DAY EVVVVVEEERR!!!!


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Dude, your sopposed to seperate the lights from the darks! And wash the towels by themselves! And you forgot to put in the farbic softner in the dryer!"

I cant believe I am doing this. I'm sitting here, crouched over the floor sorting Deans freaking undies and he's lying there on the bed, flipping through a magazine. This is such bullshit! Dean must hear my mutinous thoughts in my head for he says,

"You agreed to the terms, man. And you lost. So now you have to pay up. Now stop being a whiny bitch and go bring me a margarita!"

"This is a mansion! We have servants for this stuff. And I dont even know HOW to make a margarita!"

"A, thats sad. B, it's called google."

Okay, I dont know how to admit this, but I don't actually know what laundry is, you know? It's like, my clothes get dirty, I throw them in the general vincinity of the hamper, and some person takes them away. And then they return, fresh and clean. And what is fabric softner even?? It's like, I'm so utterly fucked. How could I ever live on my own? Could I even feed myself? Dean must have noticed my depressed/embarrased expression for he says more kindly,

"Jeeze relax. It's just laundry. It's not like I'm asking you to suck my cock or anything."

"I wish you were, I could handle sucking you off..." I say aloud without thinking about it. And then when I realize what I just said, my face goes all red, like I'm embarrased. Which doesnt make any sense because i've _never_ been embarrased before about sex. Or talking to people about it. But for some bizaar reason I all of a sudden hate that Dean knows that I'm promiscuous. Like I want him to think better of me..but what does that even mean? I've never felt that way before, with anybody. What the fuck is wrong with me?! Something about Dean, it's like...I don't even know...

"Uhhhh..." I say, breaking the silence, "I have to...to go. I'll send somebody with a margarita"

I walk out of the room, turning away from Dean's confused expression.

I'm pacing in the library. I've drunken three margarita and taken two cold shower and I still can't get Dean off my mind. Visions of him and his voice keep on popping in my head. Before I know it I'm standing in front of his room and I feel nervous and like I said, this confuses me to no end. It must be lust, thats the only explanation. I'm just infatuated with him but after I have sex with him this will all go away. I raise my hand to knock, but then I remember that this is MY freaking house and I am a DUKE and he's just some lowly poor soldier. I turn the handle and push inside.

And once I pass the threshold, I have no idea what to say. I'm standing here like an idiot, and he's lying there on the bed with only a pair of jeans on with his golden skin and his freckles and his miles of muscle and I have no idea how to even begin.

"Can I help you?" he asks, jarring me out of my thoughts. His mouth is twisted in that sexy half grin, but his eyes look more serious.

"I—I. Oh this is fucking ridiculas..." I moan, shaking my head in my hands.

"What? Dude I was kind of kidding about the laundry, you dont have to worry about it.."

"No not the fucking laundry! I want-" There's silence for about thirty seconds.

"Me?" he asks, but he's laughing like it's a joke, which it should be. And it's not, which kills me.

"Maybe...." I say, my head ducking as I look away.

"Wait," he says, sitting up, "You are actually...I mean you want... really?"

"Does that...I mean could that..not be a bad thing?" I ask in a whisper, not sure what I'm even saying but I sense that Dean is getting off the bed. Probably to get the fuck away.

But then I feel his arms circle around me. He's grasps one of my wrists, kissing it lightly and his other arm hugs my waiste. This is so much I look away again, trying to get a grip when he lightly touches my chin, turning it upwards so I'm looking into his eyes. "It's not a bad thing.." he says softly, his eyes are warm with something which might even be desire.

"But you said...you were drunk and..." I half say, trying to keep my thoughts focused as I drown in the feeling of his soft caresses on my side.

"I was. It's not exactly okay for a soldier of my posistion to hit on the son of a man in government. It'd look bad."

"So what are you doing now?"

"I want you. And I think...I think I can trust you. Can I?"

"Oh god, yes," I say, and before I can shy away I kiss him. It's even better than what I remember because this time I'm not drunk or distracted. This time all I can even comprehend is him and his taste and his smell and the feeling of his lips, so smooth but firm, on mine. I feel him slowly pull me toward the bed and then I'm lying on it, confused and sad that he's not on top of me but standing on the edge, sort of apprasing me.

"Having second thoughts?" I ask, feeling the bare edges of disappointment.

"Oh, fuck no" he says, almost forcefully, and then he's jumped on the bed and he's lying on top of me, kissing my lips and then my neck and then lower and all I can think about is how fucking amazing it feels and how much I want him.

I feel him pulling me forward, and as I sit up he slowly pulls up my t-shirt. Once my cheast is bare his lips latch onto my neck bone, and then lower and lower. I feel him unbuttoning the button on my pants, then slowing unzipping my zipper. He pulls my pants down my thighs then off my ancles and and now I'm lying beneath his, naked. I've been naked with hundreds of people, but this...it feels so much more complete. Like it's not just my body but my soul as well. And how retarded and freaken romance novel-esque is that? But fuck you, because that's how I feel.

"Why are you still wearing clothes?" I whine, sitting up and grasping at his belt. Now that this is happening, and it's not just some siccophant vision in my head, I feel empowered. The instincts of all my sexual excursions come flooding back and by habit, I flip us so I am now straddling him. I feel his cock hard underneath the denim, so I know he isn't that disappointed by this new development.

I rip and tear and pull at his his pants, and in a matter of seconds we are equally naked, as I lie on top of him. There is stillness for a second, the only sound our quickened breathing and i'm looking into his eyes and I sense something that i've never seen before, in anyone. (In retrospect I realize that it is something like love.)

"What now?" he sort of jokes. His tone is light, but his eyes are kind of serious, like he, like me, has no idea what to do next. I look into his eyes, and then something changes in him. With a mischevious glint in his eyes he flips us again. His hands move from my hair to my cock, and I gasp and moan at his touches.

"I'm going to make all your dreams come true, princess" he says.

And then there I no words.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**Dean (YES DEAN'S!! :D) POV**

As I groggily open my eyes, peeling the linen sheets from my skin, I look at the clock. It's 7:35 pm. I look over and see Sam sleeping next to me. He's got a pillow cuddled into his arms and that adorable half contemplative expression on his face that people get when I guess they're dreaming. You know, now that he's asleep, and not shooting off offensive and annoying comments every four seconds, I notice how he doesnt really look like a bastard. Like with some people, they just look like assholes. But he doesn't. Besides the fact that he happens to be totally beautiful, but whateves.

He turns away from me, murming something in his sleep, and I take the opportunity to slowly slip out of the bed. Once free from the soft warm bed, I pull on some clothes and slowly creep towards the door.

I need some coffee and I need to talk to Harmony.

Two dropped phone calls (damn you, AT&T!) and a taxi ride later, I'm sitting at one of the half a million starbucks in town with a warm frothy chai in front of me. A few minutes later, in walks Harmony, totting a canvas laptop bag and a rather expectant expression.

"Did you get the floor plans of the Duke's mansion?" she asks.

Okay, stop.

I want you to take all your conceptions about me, all that you think you might have come to understand, and throw it all away. Because I'm not who the Duke or Sam or anyone think's I am.

Harmony isn't either.

We're both world class Jewel Theieves.

Kitschy, right? But it makes bank.

So fastfoward to right this second and reexamen that question Harmony just asked. Now let's put it into prespective. When I arrived in this town, my job was layed out simple. Get close to the family and figure out where all the really nice shit is hidden and what's the best way to get to it. Harmony and her team would do the rest. My job is almost the most important. You see, I'm really good at it. That's why I don't even need to be involved in the actual event of the stealing. As soon as I turn in the plans, I can hop on a plane to Mexico and receive my check in the mail. Sweet, right?

Now the kid. Sam. This could cause complications. Unnesiary attachments can cause some loose strings that can really fuck the situtation all up. Besides the fact that the kid was a totally surprise. Harmony forgot to mention that the Duke had a rather attractive son who just happened to bat for a rather unexpected team in her breifing. She's always doing shit like that. It's like she's so enamored about the job that all the other details are irrelevant. Even when she has the money, all she's thinking about is the next job. She's like...asexual or something.

"Not quite. But I'm working on it." I reply evasively, taking another sip of my chai. Harmony can be a bit overly obsessive, not good to give away too much information. Espeically the whole "fucking the target's son" thing. She wouldn't understand. Like I said, asexual.

"Report back to me when you do, then." she replys, turning away to take out her computer and start tapping rapid fire. That's all the goodbye I'm going to get, knowing her. Real warm housewife she's going to make someday. But she's a good kid. Besides the whole armed burgalary thing, but, hey, nobody's perfect.

Once I finish my drink, I head out the door onto the crowded street outside. I'm going to have to head back to the mansion. Probably do some research in my room. And if Sam happens to be there--all post-sex ruffled hair and naked in my bed-- it's just buisiness.

Uhh..yeah definitely just .

…..........................................................................

"Oh hey, what are you still doing here?" Sam asks, rolling over and rubbing his eyes. He blinks a few times, his eye's adjusting to the lamp in the room.

"What do you mean what am I doing here? This is like my room, dude. It's where all my shits at." I reply, swiveling in the [nice, swively, expensive] chair to face him. He sits up in the bed, the moonlight that's coming through the window highlighting his skin in a truth be told pretty sexy way. Let's just say, if I wasn't worried that Harmony would castrate me if I didnt get the plans done I'd be taking advantage of his naked-in-my-bed-ness right now. But I am, so damnit it I need to concentrate! I swivel back and try to refocus on the numerous files blinking on the screen in front of me.

"It's just that most guys...uh nevermind. So it's only like 8'o'clock man and I'm still in the house. This is a problem. Do you want to go get some drinks or something?" he asks.

"Uhhhh...dude I've got some shit I gotta do. You know, army stuff. But maybe I'll catch up laters?"

"Oh yeah, sure that'd be cool" there's almost a disappointed edge to his voice. I'd feel bad except I really like my cock. I hear him rusteling around, searching for his clothes which managed to find themselves in every possible place around the room. After he clasps his belt he opens the door, slipping out into the hallway.

Finally, no distractions.

Why am I not happy about this?


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

**Back to Sam POV**

"Dude you will NEVER believe it" Regan starts off.

"You screwed Walt Disney's chrogneically frozen body? Holy fuck dude, you're right I never would have believed that! Thats just sick" I reply, taking another sip off my cosmo. Because fag drink or not, they are still really good. We're hanging in the lounge, watching Iron Man and Regan's drinking a can of Seven Up because he's second definition gay and won't drink alcohol.

"Ummm...no" (Regan has no sense of humor) "I'm getting married!"

"You are getting...?? Oh haha this is the joke. You are joking right?"

"No I'm not" he replys, his fifty watt smile blinding me, "I met this chick Shannon last night, right? And she's like really gorgeous and she's getting a degree in corporate law and anyway we started talking and we spent the whole night together and then...I dont know sometime around four in the morning I just like asked and she said yes!"

"Dude, she had to have been drunk. _You_ had to have been drunk."

"Nope, we weren't even drinking." he reply's smugly, as if this is something to be proud of. Which I guess it is.

"Alright, I can see that you are too sickeningly happy to take any ribbing seriously. I'm still your best man though, right?"

"Pho sho!" he replys, clincking his can with my glass then settling back into the couch. Like I said, second definition gay.

Now that we're not talking and the beginning sequence is playing on the widescreen, I notice the bulky feel of my phone in my pocket. I finger it's smooth plastic surface, longing to pull it out and look through the message book to the "D"s and then—sigh. It's been twenty four hours and he's totally disappeared. He wasn't there a breakfast or lunch, he wasn't in his room (okay so maybe I took the long way to my room by passing by his room and then listened through the crack of the door to see if he was there...four times) and even when I oh so suavely nonchalantaly asked my sister and the cook where they thought he might be they said they had no idea.

I know I'm sopposed to not give a damn but right now all I want to do is talk to him. Or text him. Or even see him across a crowded room or anything. Just to know that he still exists.

I try to shake my thoughts away from him but then that bitch reporter chick comes on the screen. Which makes me think of Piper. Which makes me think of love which somehow makes me think of him!

I cant concentrate, especially with Regan sitting next to me all happily engaged and taken. I get up, leaving my glass at the bar and walk out into the hallway. I mozy in the general direction of the salon, relishing the heat of the sun as it glances off the glass of the portraits and priceless pieces in the hallway.

Coming to the Salon, I find my sister sprawled across an armchair, a soduko pad and pen in her hands and furrorwed look on her brow.

"Hey monkey" she calls, scratching in a letter as a sit across from her on an auttoman. "Where's Regan?"

"Oh he's....it doesnt matter. So what's up?" I reply, fingers playing with the tassles of the auttoman.

"Father's all up in arms. Apperantly one of his set's houses got broken into or something. A few priceless paintings and some jewlery were stolen. Oh and the safe was cleaned out."

"That's....unfortunate. Is Dad going to help him out or something...?"

"Oh god no. He's not even a good friend. It's just offends our father in that he assumed that people don't commit crimes against people of our status, which is perfectly ridiculas of course. I guess he's feeling his own mortality."

"Well it's not as if we have anything really worth stealing. Father might be rich but he's got no taste."

The conversation stopped there, and we sat in our respective silences. Ana worrying about sodoku and me worrying about things that it's much to early in the day to be worried about.

….....................................

I settle onto my bed, setting a steaming cup of hot chocolate on my bedside table and laying down my copy of The Sun Also Rises  on the pillow next to me. I figure that it would do me good to study up on a lifetime of jealousy and and disquiet, because at this point seems to be my future.

I just flip to page one when I hear a knock on the door.

"Wakey wakey!" I hear a familiar voice say, the knob turning as Dean enters the room. "You're reading? What a nerd!"

"Psshh if you don't read Hemingway you are a dumbass."

"Touche. So you still good for drinks? I know it's a bit late but--"

"Wait, you still want to go? I mean yeah totally! Drinks, awesome."

"Aiight sweet. You'll have to show me to a good bar then, and I mean a good one! Not that other shitty one that your sister try to set us up in."

"Wait, what was that about my sister?"

"The shitty bar part? Or the setting-us-up-part? You didn't notice? She kept on trying to push us together the whole night and she looked like she was going to pee herself she was so excited when we left together."

"Oh...wow. That's so---wow. Didn't...well whatever lets get going before all the teeny boppers head out with their fake ID's"

Downing half my hot chocolate, and then half choking as it scalded my throat we headed out the door. As I was just about to close my door, Dean sort of pulled me aside, gesturing to my nose.

"You have whipped cream--"

"What?"

"You have...oh whatever." and with that he pulled my face to his and licked at my nose. "Mmmmm whipped cream."

"You are so gay." I reply, laughing as we started down the halfway.

"You love it." he retorts, smiling.

He's not wrong.

Settling myself in the passenger seat of the car, because Dean sopposadly thinks that "only real men can drive porches and therefore I'm not qualified" because he's a jerk (but I pick my battles and let him drive anyway), Dean starts the car. I'll half admit I let him drive so that I can check him out without causing an accident.

"You know what? Screw the bars. I'ma take you out cause I'm really cool like that. You got any descent movie houses in this shithole of a rich town?"

"Ummmm....yeah there's a couple." I reply, startled at his idea.

As we pull into the parking lot of a busy entertainment complex, with thousands of peole milling around outside of restaurants and stores, I sort of gulp. My palms felt horribly sweaty and a zillion butterflies fly around my stomache as Dean pulls into a parking space, turning off the engine and unbuckeling his seatbelt as he steps outside the car. I sit motionless for a few seconds, trying to get a grip.

"Dude, you alright?"

"Ummmm...yeah totally." I reply, my voice slightly pitched as I shakily step out of the car.

"What, do you not like movies or something?"

"No it's just.....I've never really gone to movies before. With like...people I've slept with."

"You've never been on a date before?" Dean asks incredulously. My heart flutters at the word date and yeah I'm such a girl but whatever.

"Yeah" I confirm. "I mean what are we—I sopposed to do?"

"Well you can stop freaking out for starters. Just calm down. I'll do the rest." I can hear a smile in his voice. "Jesus, with all the private education and no dates. That's kinda messed."

It shows how nervous and out of my element I am that I dont rise to his ribbing and instead just follow in his wake.

As we wait in line, I check out the marquee and notice the list of blinking movie titles. There are a few romantic comedies, some indie dramas and some action films. As the crowd jostles behind me, I'm forced to stand sort of close to Dean and then all I can think about is him and all the titles fly out of the window. We finally get to the front of the line and Dean pays for the tickets of a movie that I dont even notice, so I just assume it's be one of the action films.

We pass by the ticket-taker-person or whatever, some bleach blond chick who smiles a little to invitingly at Dean. I can't exactly blame her, but I immediately get kinda jealous and I defensively cross my arms. Dean must of noticed this for as he take the torn tickets from her outstretched hand he pulls me closer and kisses me, then taking my hand pulls me across the room.

I can't believe he just did that! And with satisfaction, I notice that the chick makes a haughty huffing sound as we walk away. I love the feel of his hand in mine, all warm but strong. Yeah, girly, I know. Also, I dont care.

We walk into the darkened theatre, him pulling me along as we make our way up the aisles to find a good seat. The lights havent completely dimmed, and as I settle in my seat I pull out the torn little piece of paper out of my pocket to read the title.

"Dude, we're watching "New in Town"? Isn't that a chick flick?"

"Yeah, so?"

"You like watching chick flicks? Wow..you didn't seem the type..."

"No dude," he replys, pulling the armrest up from between our seats, "When you go to the movies to watch a chick flick you dont actually watch a chick flick. You make out the whole time." And with that he pulled me close and started kissing me again, totally wiping any thoughts away from my mind.

As we pull away for air for two seconds he says cheekily, "But I still want sneak into "Taken" and watch that before we leave. I spent like twenty bucks on these tickets."

And then we start kissing again.

Dates are like totally fucking awesomest thing ever invented. Times a thousand.


End file.
